Looking
by SummerRose12
Summary: Creative Writing story that was apart of a roleplay and loosely based on Cats, contains only human OC's. Basically, my character, Finn is acting like an idiot in a bar. other charcters do not belong to me. Oneshot


A/N: Finn is owned by me

Farren and Julia are owned by Quill-of-Wonder

Shannon is owned by Raptoregg64

Looking

There was no better place to find joy on a dark night than there was at a particular London pub. The blare of Irish music boomed throughout and beyond the property along with the obnoxious laughter of the patrons as they emptied their ale mugs into their mouths. The dizzying drunkenness passed this lively pub as the merriest in all of England. All worries and troubles: checked at the door. The pub was known as Mick's, and it was Finn's favorite place to be on a Friday night. The taste of alcohol in his mouth would have been too missed had he not gone out at least once every week, and this time, he had persuaded his best friend and flatmate, Farren, to join him.

The counter had already been littered with shot glasses as the two friends sat back and watched the dance floor kick into a full swing, which made Finn almost too proud of his Irish roots. As the burning scent of whiskey surrounded the counter, the evening was made even more enjoyable as large numbers of girls had fluttered inside, trapping themselves in the night life. Finn usually referred to these large groups as a "flock of prey", and took much delight in trying to flirt with them. Sometimes it worked out; sometimes it didn't, but having these nights with Farren made the experience entertaining.

"What about that one?" Farren asked, point out a blonde sitting at a table by herself.

Finn snorted and ran a hand through his red hair. "Already got that one a couple of weeks ago." he said, "Name is… Madeline, I think. She wouldn't say a word to me now." From what Finn remembered, he had probably never called her when he said he would. He didn't feel any guilt for this though; she obviously must have had too boring a personality.

"Ah…" Farren mumbled, looking down at the bottom of his beer bottle. At a moment's notice, he glanced up at Finn with a smallest bit of hope in his eyes, "…Do you think_ I_ would like her?"

"Doubt it. She's a bit prudish. Doesn't have that fire I know you like. Or that_ I_ like for that matter." Finn glanced over at him and smirked faintly. He had much more experience in asking girls out than Farren ever did.

Farren stared at him a moment before rolling his eyes, "Of course _you_ would think that. 'Fire' isn't the only thing that appeals to me, Finn."

"What do you mean?" Finn asked, jokingly appalled at the comment, "Are you saying I don't know my favorite wingman?"

"I'm your only wingman, Finn. And that's because I'm the only one that can stand you." Farren grinned and sat his bottle behind him, looking particularly smug. Finn merely sneered at him before ordering another round of shots, much to Farren's displeasure. "C'mon, Finn! I can't drink another shot! Don't you remember what happened last time I had too many of those?"

"So you woke up naked in jail; worse could've happened! Besides, you know the rules. When one of us strikes out, we both drink a shot."

"What are you talking about? I didn't strike out!"

Finn smirked arrogantly as he grabbed the filled shots from the counter and handed one to Farren. "You chickened out on Madeline."

"What?" Farren stared at him, wide-eyed and noticeably outraged, "You can't count that against me! You didn't even recommend her!"

"Why should that stop you?" Finn asked, finding his friend's reaction hilarious.

This usually being Finn's nonchalant position in any argument, Farren had the same reaction: "You're an idiot." He muttered, downing the shot.

Finn smirked and drained his shot glass with him, "I'm_ knowledgeable_, Farr." he corrected, pausing from the burn in his throat before setting the shot glass with the others, "And all of my experience leads me to conclude that if_ I_ couldn't hang on to her number for a few days, then you definitely couldn't get it."

Farren blinked, his eyes suddenly narrowing in annoyance. "The only reason anyone goes for you over me is because women suddenly got stupider and don't go for the mysterious types anymore."

"Of course not!" Finn laughed, subtly drinking the rest of Farren's beer, only to annoy him even more, "Handsome gingers happen to be growing in appeal."

Farren wasn't completely an unpleasant person, but that side of him only made an appearance around familiar persons. Otherwise the paleness of his face and the thin strands of his dark hair did not calculate to please the opposite sex. Finn still had doubts as to whether Farren actually had a likeable personality to his own mother.

Farren frowned and continued to sip at the rest of his beer, then suddenly smirked and turned to face Finn. "How about we test that theory?"

Finn raised an eyebrow, "For one thing, it's_ fact_. For another, what are you proposing?"

"Try getting a girl's number. If you do, then I'll pay for all the shots tonight, but if you don't, then you pay for the shots."

This sounded almost too easy. Farren obviously didn't know how to bet if this was what he came up with. Finn smirked, deciding to order another round of shots for when he came back with the girl's number, wanting to strain their tab and irk Farren a little more. "Alright, Farr, you're on."

"Oh yeah and there's a catch: I pick her for you."

Finn immediately didn't like the sound of that. "Now that's not even fair." He complained, but did so with a grin to show he wasn't at all threatened by this. "For all I know you pick some old, married gal doin' a jig with her husband."

Farren smirked at him, "Don't worry about that; unmarried woman. Not a day over thirty by looks. Besides, if being a ginger is a 'factual' attraction, it's a chance to prove you could get any girl you wanted to." He leaned back against the counter and held out his hand. "Deal?"

After a brief moment of pause, Finn shook his hand. "…Deal."

"Good. Now, as for the girl," Farren turned his head, still smirking as he pointed a finger at the lone blonde sitting by herself. "How 'bout getting Madeline's number back?"

Finn wasn't surprised in the least that this was Farren's pick. He should have figured he'd pick someone that would help him win. Stupid sod. But knowing he would face more taunting if he didn't accept the challenge, Finn stood to his feet and slowly walked over to Madeline's table, ignoring the sound of Farren's snickers. Knowing his best friend was watching, Finn put on his usual smirk and walked up in front of Madeline. She looked up from a magazine she was flipping through, immediately scowling at his freckled face. "What do you want?" she hissed at him, going back to sipping at some sort of colored martini.

Well, at least she remembered him.

"Nice to see you too." He said, looking charming as he usually did. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Yes."

Finn rolled his eyes out of her sight and sat down across from her anyway. Farren was probably chuckling to death. "How are you doing?" he asked her.

"Much worse since I saw your sorry mug again." She grumbled.

Finn sighed, seeing that she was practically covering her face with her hair to keep from even seeing him. He didn't think he had hurt her feelings _that_ badly! "Look, Maddie; mind if I call you that?" –he didn't wait for a reply- "I've been trying to get a hold of you… You see, I lost your number at home…"

"No you didn't." She spat, looking up from her reading so he could see the fierce glare on her face. "I called you repeatedly a month ago, Finn! Probably twelve times before I finally caught on that you didn't want to talk to me!"

"…Our answering machine was busted." This was a smoothly concocted lie, of course.

Madeline didn't look convinced. "Bugger off." She muttered, staring back down at the pictures in her magazine.

Farren was probably already ordering another round of shots by now. Not wanting to come back empty handed, Finn leaned forward and daringly placed a hand on her fingers. It was certainly the riskiest part of his night, because she gave him a look that could have caused him to spontaneously combust. "Maddie, come on-"

"I said bugger off!" In a fit of rage, Madeline grabbed her magazine and smacked his head several times. And surprisingly, she had quite the swing. Finn used his hand for cover as he quickly stood up and walked off, hearing the jeers of other men to "leave the lady alone." No matter what the bet, no one deserved _that _kind of lady. He would much rather pay off their tab than have to deal with that kind of hellfire. However, he still didn't want to give up money to a git like his flatmate.

Finn immediately gave a dirty look to the floor as he went to sit back down next to Farren, who was obviously acting as smug as he could over this. "Well, so much for the ginger factor in first attractions, right Finn?"

"Whatever, Farren…" he grumbled, downing the shot he ordered with almost too much haste. "Try not to choke on your whiskey."

"Someone's a little up himself." Farren mocked, smirking as he downed his shot with a sour expression. When he came back up from his buzz, he looked at his friend. "That magazine beating cool you off enough? Or should I order you some ice water to go with your next drink?"

Farren's taunts were a little less than amusing at that point, and Finn knew he'd endure them for the next few pub-goings if he didn't do something about it quickly. "Alright then, Farr, Double or nothing." Finn leaned back up from his slumped position and started to scan the bar. "If you're going to act so hot now, then let's see if that mysterious look is going to get you anywhere."

Farren started trying to follow Finn's gaze, raising an eyebrow slightly. "…What are you talking about?"

"Same bet." Finn explained, looking back at him with a grin. "Try getting a girl's number of my choosing. You do, I'll pay tabs for tonight and the next night we go out. You don't, then you pay for two nights."

Farren was instantly frowning. This usually meant he was chickening-out. "…Nah, Finn." He murmured, glancing at the counter again. "One embarrassing incident was enough tonight, wasn't it?"

Rolling his eyes at this reaction, Finn tried to think of another excuse for him to take the bet. "Alright, Farr, but that means you're the one drinking shots for not taking the bet."

"Yeah, but at least I know you're the one paying for them."

"And you'll be the one in jail without a scrap of clothing again."

Farren gave him a sneer before completely dismissing the comment and going back to looking at the dirt on his sneakers. Finn sighed roughly, "C'mon, Farr. Show a man some courtesy. Wouldn't be fair to not give me a chance. I'd like to at least try to earn my money back."

Farren only shook his head, the reluctance in his eyes moving around the room instead of facing the risk of his friend's bet. Finn knew what he was afraid of though. And he was internally kicking himself for not realizing it in the first place. "Fine, if you're too afraid to actually talk to a woman… I'll simply have to assume that you're afraid of them."

Farren looked over at him with a wrinkle in his brow. "Who the hell is afraid of women?"

"Men like yourself. And I know you'd hate to live with that taunt."

Farren growled at the cockiness spread over Finn's face, quickly pushing the beer past him and stood, "Don't go there. I'll get your stupid number if it'll shut that trap of yours. Just point her out."

Finn said absolutely nothing as he jabbed a finger to the other side of the counter. Barely slouching on a small bar stool was a forty-year-old woman, wearing an ill-fitted dress and smoking a comically large cigar. Her hair was rooted in grey and the wrinkles were long and obvious. Overall, her appearance was unappealing; the kind of woman Farren would be positively repulsed by. "Good luck there, Farr."

Farren stared at the woman for a short time but was eventually able to make his feet move toward her. Finn watched calmly, convinced that the bet was his, even if his record of winning their bets was practically non-existent. This time, he was going to prove that he didn't always play the fool. If there was any area that he was actually an expert in, it was women.

He watched in silence as Farren sat at the other end of the bar, already getting a chortle out of the woman as she exhaled smoke into his face. Finn was only facing his friend's backside, but just by watching the straightening of his spine and his hand awkwardly scratching his neck, Farren was trying harder than he usually did. This wasn't surprising, considering what was at stake. However, Farren's change from his anti-social, introverted personality around women was almost baffling. Finn continued watching the gross display of sociable pleasantry between Farren and his selected woman, (though Finn was working hard not to label her a prostitute or a cougar.) It was around the time where he could see the woman's lips forming her yellow smile that Finn knew this wasn't working. In less than five minutes, Farren would probably ask for her number, and then they'd know which one of them was selling his blood to pay off their tab.

Finn tapped his fingers on the counter nervously, beginning to stare around the bar again for some sort of interception of this bet. It was obvious that he wasn't going to win this unless he brought in a cheating factor. Though he would never admit it, that was how he won most bets, and it seemed he would have to play the same card again so he didn't lose half of his weekly pay. Suddenly, a miracle occurred. Finn found himself smiling widely as a tall woman walked into the bar, wearing a casual pair of sneakers, jeans, and a sweatshirt that was too big for her. Her auburn hair was cropped to her neck; a long row of wispy bangs covered her forehead, and a sprinkle of small freckles on her nose. In a moment, the dull green in her eyes brightened as they fell on Finn. This was recognizably his twin sister, Shannon.

"Finn!" She quickly strode over to him, a bright smile on her face as she sat were Farren had originally. "Where've you been?"

"Here and there," Finn answered, smiling back at his sister as he ordered a beer for her. He wasn't surprised Shannon was around. Her apartment was only a few blocks away from his and Farren's, and this was usually her favorite place to unwind at. He couldn't have been more impressed by her timing.

"Ma's been calling me about you," she told him, grinning, "She's not happy that you haven't checked in with anyone for weeks."

"I'll tell her I've been busy." Finn said, rolling his eyes. The O'Connelly family was always close. Finn was the only son out of four children, though Shannon did her part to remind him that he was fifteen minutes late of being the older twin. She could be annoying and impetuously bossy, but he was closest to her out of all of his sisters. So, he reluctantly tolerated her.

Shannon grinned as she pulled the beer cap off the bottle and took a swig of it. Finn chuckled quietly, "Careful there, Shannon. We don't want another 'Spitfire' incident."

Shannon looked up from her beer, rolling her eyes. "That only happened once, Finn. I drank way too much on our eighteenth birthday. Just let it go."

Shannon had gained the infamous nickname of "Spitfire" when she first went to London. It was a comic story of her first night in a London pub and had drunk one too many alcoholic beverages. She had only told Finn about this, and he had gladly kept it from their conservative mother. "Sorry, Shan. You're the one that's hilarious when you're drunk." Finn chuckled.

Shannon merely rolled her eyes, quickly changing the subject: "Say, where's that sidekick of yours…? Passed your invitation again tonight?"

Finn smirked, this being the question he had waited for her to ask. There was many a reason Shannon would be asking for Farren. The two of them had had a sorted past. Before Finn had ever seen London, they had gone out. It was around six months that Finn began to rent a room with Farr that they broke up. Finn never asked about this relationship, nor did he want to. All he knew was that there was an increasing amount of tension between them. And more importantly, because of Shannon's undeniable temper, she was jealous of any woman Farren went out with afterwards.

Passing only a moment not to answer this, Farren took a swig of his own beer and pointed across at Farren's backside. "Right there. Talking to some _woman_."

Shannon followed his hand only to glare a bit. Finn saw her hand shaking on her bottle, which made him smirk even wider, but he quickly erased it as her head whipped back around to face him. "Who is she?" she demanded, her face turning red, which Finn was almost happy to see.

Finn shrugged, "Never met her. But from what I've seen tonight, Farr's pretty smitten," he finally smirked at her as he placed his beer on the counter. "What's wrong, Shan? Growing a little green? She is kind of pretty… at the right angle…"

"She's a skank, Finn." Shannon hissed, standing back up with a beer in hand.

Finn chuckled, noticing that this temper of hers clouded any other discretion she would have had coming into the bar. "Shan, you've never even seen her before."

"She's about to see _me_." Shannon immediately paced over to the couple before explaining herself to her twin. Finn watched in interest, wondering what his sister had planned. His eyebrows suddenly raised high on his forehead as he saw the beer in Shannon's hand being dumped on to the woman's head.

Finn froze as he stared up at his sister, shocked as he listened in more closely. As much as he wanted to win the bet, he didn't expect his sister to go to such drastic measures. Shannon adopted the sinister smirk that her brother usually wore, "You're mascara's running a little bit." She told the woman sweetly, taking the bar stool as her outraged rival ran off to the bathroom, cursing and hollering on her way there.

Finn sat there for a moment before laughing hysterically. Whatever Farren and Shannon were talking about now, Finn was almost sorry that he was missing it. He continued chuckling, quickly asking the bartender for the bill. Despite watching his sister's little act, he would find no greater pleasure during the evening than having to hand the bar's bill to Farren. He quickly stood up and walked over to them, placing the bill on the counter. "I believe you'll be paying tonight, Farr."

Farren looked up, his eyes still alert with confusion. It took a moment of time before he realized what was in front of him. He frowned excessively as he pushed the piece of paper away from him. "Finn, not now. I don't want to deal with the bill."

"Well, you're not going to get that woman's number, so you might as well pay now."

Shannon already looked annoyed by her brother's interruption, but now her eyebrows both crinkled from puzzlement. "Say that again?" she asked.

"Oh, Farr and I had a bet, you see," he smirked faintly a Farren, who was glaring. Finn continued, "He picked a girl for me to get the number of, and if I could get it, he'd be paying our tab. I lost, but I bet him again to see if he could get a number of a woman I picked; incidentally, the number of the woman you successfully drove away. Thanks, Sis."

And before Finn's eyes, he inevitably saw the true nature of Spitfire. Shannon's face grew into a deep red, a dark shine in her eyes now present as she took the beer that had been bought and smashed it at Finn's feet. She was obviously not amused. "Shame on you," She hissed, "taking advantage like women like that. You might look like a big shot around here, Finn, but from a quality woman's perspective, you're just a jerk."

"Oh, and you're suddenly calling yourself a quality woman?" Finn asked, ignoring the voice that told him to stop digging himself into a deeper hole, "Dating someone like Farren doesn't make you quality, _Sis_."

Shannon glared at her brother for a few moments before quickly turning away from them. "Call me when you're not drunk off your arse." she muttered.

Before Finn could even make an excuse for himself, Farren stood up and quickly followed after Shannon. "Shannon, please wait-"

"Go pay your tab, Farren. Seems you lost tonight." She gave him a distasteful snarl before rushing out of the pub.

As she stormed away from sight, Finn stood there awkwardly with Farren, wondering if Shannon was going to forgive him for this one. It didn't seem like it should have been a big deal anyway. She made _herself_ look like a fool, not him! Glancing over at his best friend, he shrugged faintly and smirked again. "Well, that could have gone better…"

Farren said nothing for a few seconds, but then grabbed his wallet and dumped some money on the counter. "You always take it a step too far, Finn." He said passively.

Finn raised an eyebrow at the statement, but then just rolled his eyes. Apparently, Farren was taking things too seriously as well. "You're not really taking what she said to heart, are you? Shan's always had a temper, Farr. Don't be feeling guilty all the sudden."

"She was right, Finn! Between how much we drink and whatever the hell we do each night… don't you ever think that we should rethink things?"

Rethink things? Well that was never something coming out of Farr's mouth. Finn mildly grinned as he leaned back against the counter. "That's the difference between you and me, Farr. I actually know how to live."

"And your sister knows how to live too. A lot better than us, I might add. At least she doesn't cheat on her wagers."

"It was an _intervention_!" Finn defended, glaring, "You always do this, Farr. If Shan comes, you blow a gasket at me and become her 'yes man'. Don't you ever get tired of taking things out of proportion?"

"…I'll see you at the flat, Finn. Maybe you did have one too many whiskeys tonight." Without another thought or expression revealed on his face, Farren stuffed his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and left the bar.

For the next few minutes, Finn sat there, not ordering anything else. He simply listened to the sad Irish tunes until the bartender announced last call. He was confused how he could get his best friends in the city to hate him in one night. Compared to things he had done to them before, this one didn't seem too bad at all! However, while the alcohol dazed his judgment and coordination, the tiniest trace of guilt emerged. He personally didn't see what was wrong with enjoying his life, but he wasn't completely foolish. He knew when he was acting overly idiotic and somewhat sloshed.

It was around one in the morning, Finn found the ability to drag himself outside of the bar, convinced he had sobered up enough to not say anything stupid to Farr or Shan again. As he walked down the path, he began to consider what his sister said about being a jerk versus being a hot shot. Shannon knew him better than anyone, unfortunately. She especially enjoyed examining his "complete disregard of women;" as she would say. In Finn's perspective, he didn't _completely _disrespect the women he dated. He had lived with three sisters and an overbearing mother until he was eighteen, so it was obvious what they would teach him as a teenager. But still, it was simple to forget things at the end of the day, which could still be proof that perhaps a little too much whiskey _had_ clouded his judgment.

Finn continued at a relatively slow pace as his eyes darted from the edge of the curb to his feet every few seconds. He wasn't sure what to do now. He was afraid to call his sister; she'd probably scold his ear right off. His flat was out because Farr was still angry. The pub was probably going to close in a few minutes, so he couldn't sleep in a booth. Finn sighed, feeling sorry for himself for acting stupidly all night. While he was still deciding what he was going to do, he took a sharp turn at the corner of the street –into another person.

Finn fell back on the ground, his hood falling from his head and his backside landing on pavement. He quickly sat up, wanting to get this encounter over and done with as quickly as possible. Mirroring his position on a ground was a young woman, her hair tangled in an unnaturally red color and bathed in lamp light. She glared up at him as she rubbed the side of her head, the light green in her eyes barely visible. "You outta watch where you're going, stranger." She said, sitting up and pulling her white shirt down.

Finn looked down, trying to pretend like he hadn't seen the tattooed vines curled around on the side of her body. "Sorry…" he mumbled, quietly standing on his feet and offering her a hand. "Didn't mean it… I wasn't paying attention."

The woman stared up at his hand, but carefully took it and allowed him to pull her up. "Well, your breath smells an awful lot like alcohol," she pointed out to him, "So I wouldn't be surprised."

"Do you think I'm drunk?" Finn asked her, though he tried a bit to smirk to make her feel just a little more light-hearted in the situation.

She merely grinned, "A little bit… But I think I can live with a handsome drunk bumping into me."

It took a moment for Finn to realize that she was flirting with him, but he found himself pleasantly surprised. Now that he took a second glance, the girl was kind of pretty; _scary_, but still pretty. "…What's your name again?" He asked, overwhelmed by the sudden meeting.

"I didn't give it." The woman pointed out, faintly smiling at him, "Julia Mora. Don't forget it either."

Finn repeated the name in his head until it was imprinted in his memory. He was about to give her his own name when she started walking away from him. Unimpressed by this, Finn took a few steps after her. "Hey, do you want my name, or is this going to be completely one-sided?"

Julia turned her head, letting out a small giggle. It was a strange laugh that she had, almost sounding like a crazy person. Of course, she looked like a crazy woman, so she was bound to have more than one abnormal trait. She stopped and turned around, her face no longer looking scary or dangerous. Instead, she looked like the kind of girl that he would usually try to get the number of: cute, funny, and was able to match his own cleverness. "Well, you've got my name now….But if I got yours and we exchange numbers, what then? Would you ever end up calling me? Or would my number go into the trash?"

Finn stopped himself from answering, afraid that this was some sort of trick question. "…What would make you think that?" he asked softly.

"Personal experience. Well, that and I'm guessing the only reason you were drinking so much is because you couldn't get anyone's number tonight, right?" Finn didn't want to admit that she was somewhat right. So, when he said nothing, he ignored the smile on her face. Julia chuckled, "Not that I want to make any assumptions, but you look like a guy who really knows his way around women."

"You can tell that just by my face?"

"Let's just say I know how men act, especially ones that crawl into beer bottles."

"Ah, well that's where you're wrong. My primary drink tonight was whiskey."

Julia chuckled, "I'm sure it was. But here's my point. You must be someone who likes living with a little more risk, right?"

"…Yeah, I guess you could say that." Finn didn't truly believe that about himself. Though he was walking home, partially drunk, without a phone, and talking to a complete stranger next to a dark alley, so who was he to judge?

"We have something in common, then." Julia said, beginning to walk again, "So, despite knowing what kind of guy you probably are when you're sober, I'll take another risk tonight."

Suddenly realizing that he was following her, Finn stopped and stared around at where they were. She had paused at a line of motorcycles, and had casually set her purse on one. "Tell you what, give me your name and number, and _I'll_ call _you_."

Finn looked back up at her face, almost curious as to how she had made that decision. "Wait… so I'm not getting your number?"

Julia simply shrugged, quickly pulled out a pen and a packet of gum. She inserted a stick in her mouth before using the wrapper as paper. "Are you giving me your number, or am I going to have to ride away, not knowing who I've been talking to for the past five minutes?"

"…My name is Finn; Finn O'Connelly."

Julia quietly scribbled on the gum wrapper before looking back up at him. "…And the number?"

Surprisingly, without second thoughts, he gave it. What was even more surprising, Julia looked over the gum wrapper before handing it to him.

Finn raised an eyebrow in confusion as he grabbed the wrapper and noticed her name and an unfamiliar, seven-digit number. Finn looked back up, "I thought you were writing down mine..."

Julia smirked as she clasped a helmet on her head and straddled the seat of a motorcycle. "I have a good memory, Finn O'Connelly." she said, revving the engines, "Just remember to call, okay? I don't want to have to call you first." Backing out into the street, Julia gave him a small wink before speeding away on her motorcycle, her fiery red hair blowing in the wind.

Walking home became uncomplicated and quick. The whole time, Finn's thoughts were on the mysterious Julia Mora and focusing on the task to call her when he was fully sober. He somehow gained the ability to stumble through the elevator of his apartment building with only a headache slowing him down. It was only after he located their room number that he realized he left his copy of the apartment key at the bar. Groaning from embarrassment, Finn knocked on the door. "Farr? It's me…I swear I'm not drunk!"

The door swiftly opened to him; however it was the familiar bright, green eyes and red hair that had answered. Finn's eyes widened, "...Shan?"

"Welcome home, Finn." She greeted, unusually chipper for being up in middle of the night. "We weren't expecting you for a few hours."

Finn paused as he walked inside of the apartment. Maybe he was drunk, after all. "…What are you doing here?" he asked his sister, noticing Farren sitting back on their couch.

"I was just leaving, actually. I called to make sure you got here safely, and when Farren answered, I decided it would be better to come and wait. But now you're here, surprisingly not tripping over yourself, so I'd best be on my way."

Finn watched his sister walk past him, and he was beginning to wonder how she hadn't been screaming at him. "Hey, Shan?" he called, leaning out the door way. She looked back at him, smiling expectantly.

Finn paused, but swallowed some saliva in reluctance, "Uh… we're cool, right?"

"Yes, little brother, we're fine. No more drinking that heavily, though. I don't mind calling Ma."

"Okay…"

Once Shannon disappeared from sight, Finn closed the apartment door behind him and stared over at Farren on the couch. He was lazily slouched back, looking particularly smug with himself.

Finn chuckled as he sat himself down on the opposite side of the couch. "What was that about?"

"When Shan came, we came to talking and made up about the whole thing." Farren explained, smirking, "We agreed you were just being an idiot."

"…Good call…You didn't make out with her, did you?"

Farren rolled his eyes at him. "Don't be an idiot." Finn grinned as he turned on the television to late-night sports. He enjoyed teasing his flatmate at any time about the crush he had on Shannon. However, their relationship together was more of an annoyance than anything. He tried to stay out of the relationship his best friend and sister shared as much as possible. "Nothing happened between me and Shannon…" Farren told him, "What kept you out all night, anyway?"

The gum wrapper was wrapped around his pinky tightly so it would not be lost. Finn gladly placed it on the table in front of them so it was prominently displayed to Farren. "I met a girl tonight. All seven digits are there too."

Farren bent by the table, examining the name in number with a curious expression. When he was satisfied, he bent back up and chuckled quietly. "Nice move. It's not even in your hand writing."

"Yup. Looks like you might owe me that drink after all."

Before Farren got a word in, there was a quiet buzz on the coffee table. Finn looked up at the cell phone with a magenta-colored casing. "…That's not your phone, is it?"

"Nope," Farren leaned back with a smug look. "That's actually your sisters. I switched them out so she took mine instead. Looks like I'm going to have to call her at some point so she gets it back."

Finn looked between his phone and Farren, caught between his vast surprise and subtle shock that his flatmate could be so clever. He felt the slightest bit of disturbance since this was his _sister_ that Farren was chasing after again, but he also couldn't help but feel a substantial amount of pride. This idea must have been inspired by living with a master womanizer, of course.

"…Tell you what, Farr," Finn began, skimming over the scores of that evening's rugby game, "I'll pay the tab for the next time we go out. We both got numbers tonight, right?"

Farren laughed quietly and walked back into the kitchen, two beers in hand, "Sounds good, Finn."


End file.
